


Just One-Part I

by Chimerical1975



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode: s04e10 Paper Hearts, F/M, First Kiss, Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimerical1975/pseuds/Chimerical1975
Summary: Mulder & Scully indulge their affections. The events of Paper Hearts draw Mulder and Scully closer, but in their future lies a series of events that will severely test each independent soul and threaten their attempts to merge two lives into one.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Just One-Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This little bitty story came about after watching Paper Hearts again recently and after having just written a long NC-17 story I wanted to try something lighter and sweeter. Also, I happened to re-read an old book of mine that contained the quote shown below and I thought immediately of Mulder & Scully. This trilogy of stories begins in the Winter of 1996 following Paper Hearts and continues into the spring through the events of Never Again and Demons.
> 
> Chimerical1975@gmail.com  
> Comments, questions, discussion, and criticisms always welcome.  
> Originally Published: February, 1998  
> The X-Files, its characters and situations are the property of 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting.

**The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed; there is no winter and no night; all tragedies, all ennui, vanish, - all duties even.** _Ralph Waldo Emerson. Essays, "Friendship" (First Series, 1841)_  
  


**FBI Headquarters**

**Late November, 1996**

"Why don't you go on home and get some sleep, Mulder."

As he looked up at his partner, a darkly emotional laugh escaped at her words, even though he saw that she'd realized her faux pas even as she said them. The idea of sleep was beyond ridiculous and they both knew it. Scully gave him a small apologetic smile in return and to his surprise, reached out for him, cradling his head gently against her as she caressed his hair tenderly and all too briefly.

Closing his eyes, Mulder leaned into her gratefully for such a spontaneous touch from Scully was rare. More importantly, her affectionate gesture signified that she didn't condemn him, though she'd had reason to. He'd made some serious errors in judgement over the course of the last few days and the end-result had almost cost a young girl her life, which would have cost Mulder his soul.

And the price he'd had to pay to rectify those mistakes was that he might never know for sure if his sister Samantha who lay in a desolate shallow grave somewhere, the sixteenth and last victim of John Lee Roche. Roche insisted it was, but Scully, equally insistent that he was being lied to-and, of course, he wanted to believe her, but he was having trouble with it.

But even if Scully was right, the terrible truth was, that unknown child still belonged to someone. She was somebody's daughter, somebody's sister. Someone else's loss, waiting to be found. And the heavy knowledge that he may have cost someone else their answer would forever be his penance for his obsession. And despite Scully's reassurances, he believed there may never be atonement for him.

After a moment Scully released him, and knowing there was no more that she could say at this time, she turned and quietly left the office. He watched her go while he remained frozen to his chair at his desk. He then carefully placed the last remaining cloth heart, his only remaining hope, in his desk drawer, closing it slowly.

He had no idea how long he sat there with his head in his hands, but he felt heavy and unable to move as the weight bore down upon him. He needed the release of tears, but they didn't come. He was too numb; he'd shut down too far this time and was having trouble getting back. All he could feel was the heaviness in his chest and a terrible, painful lump in his throat. He just sat there, feeling nothing at all as the wall clocked ticked endlessly.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone startled him, causing him to lift his head. He stared at it a moment as it rang, thinking to let the machine pick up, but habit forced him to lift the handset and answer. Besides, he was certain who was calling.

"Mulder."

"It's me," she announced just as she always did, as though there was even the remotest possibility that he wouldn't know her voice. "I want you to come by before you go on home."

"Scully--"

But she interrupted whatever lame-ass excuse he was about the utter. "Mulder, just come over."

And he knew better than to give more than a token argument, especially since she was right. He needed to be in her company, he needed what she offered to him tonight.

"All right. I'm leaving now."

A short while later he pulled up in front of Scully's, he sat a few moments before getting out of the car, gazing up at the window of her apartment. Scully was always the one who instigated these evenings. Granted, there'd only been a very few of them over their years together, but enough that he'd come to expect them. At first, he’d wondered what did she get out of all this? But over time, he'd come to understand that this ritual meant something to her too; it was a reset that she also needed it in some way.

He knew that she held him in great affection although it was mostly unspoken verbally, and certainly unexpressed physically, between them. That affection caused her to make allowances for him that she would never have made for others. It caused her to defend more often than outsiders might believe his behavior merited. But of course, outsiders didn't understand what they were to each other or what bound them together. How could they?

And so now here they were, once again in a familiar routine. He would knock on the door; she would open it and draw him into her neat, orderly world for a bit. Into her peaceful realm where good sense and logic reined; A place of momentary respite, if only for a few hours, from self-reproach and censure and dreams of long-dead children.

By most people's standards, it would be a boring evening for they would do ordinary things, cook dinner, make light conversation, and watch TV or a movie. But then, in the late night or early morning hours, they would finally, finally talk about the case. Talk about what went wrong and why and how it affected them both. Confession and redemption; this was the whole reason for the evening. And then he would leave the sanctuary, traveling lighter having dumped a little bit of his emotional baggage.

But these evenings always held an emotional danger for each of them too. A possibility of going too far or saying too much to ever take back. And then what would they do?

But undaunted by extreme possibilities, Mulder got out of the car and slowly walked up the steps to Scully's home where he knew that soon he wouldn't feel as tarnished and dirty as he felt now.

And the evening, indeed, went as usual. He walked in the door and shed his jacket, rolling up his tie and stuffing it in the pocket. Scully was in the kitchen, preparing spaghetti and of course, needed his help with something, usually salad making. As they worked side by side in the kitchen, she told him of the time her mother tried to teach her to bake a cake from scratch with disastrous results. It took a while, but she eventually made him laugh because he loved to hear these tales of her adolescence, so different from how his own had been. Scully was usually quite reticent, and she mostly only ever shared those kinds of personal stories on a night like this, giving him just a bit of herself that she normally didn't.

. After a bit she shooed him to the living room to start a fire in the fireplace while she brought the plates out. They sat on the floor behind the wooden coffee table as they ate their dinner, which always tasted better than anything had a right to for some reason. Scully showed him some paint chips and asked his opinion on which color she should choose to paint the living room, and on any other night sitting on the floor going over paint chips with Special Agent Dana Scully would have seemed strange indeed. But for some reason tonight, he was grateful to occupy his mind with such a commonplace decision.

They drank just enough wine to laugh at some adolescent comedy on TV that neither would admit they secretly liked, but never enough to get sloppy or silly or maudlin. Later they cleared the dishes, brought out the coffee and moved up to the couch to finish the movie, although the sound was almost muted, with Scully on her end and he in his usual spot on the opposite end. And as usual, they'd begun to talk about the case.

This part was the reckoning. This was the moment of the routine that Mulder loved and feared the most. He loved the moment because no one had ever understood him as she did or had ever even bothered to try. He loved the moment because she wouldn't let him hide, knowing how to push at him gently to look at what he needed to see. But that was why he feared the moment too, because knowing that she understood him that well also exposed him to the light in a way that was frightening to him. When someone knew you that well, it also gave them a small amount of dominion over you. And he was unused to that.

But she was very protective of him too. Over the last few days, she'd defended him to Skinner. She'd knelt in the dirt beside him and dug through the muddy soil with her fingers because he'd asked her to. He'd heard the quiet rage in her voice on his behalf as she'd questioned Roche. And when they'd left the interrogation room Scully had certainly known what he was going to do, just as she'd known he was going to do it alone, without her, to protect her from whatever fall from grace he might incur. He knew that she understood that, even if it made her angry. She knew him so well.

But that was why he feared the moment too, because knowing that she understood him that well also exposed him to the light in a way that was frightening to him.

As they talked about the case, she gently led him through the maze of his emotions and he felt the hot tears come quietly, just as he'd known they would. And although he made no sound, Scully was there to see them, to accept them. She moved next to him, slipped her hand over his, and assured him again with her firm voice that he would make it through this disappointment. And as he felt her affection in her presence, he believed her. He would find a way to rectify this.

After a moment, she got up and brought him a glass of water then busied herself in the kitchen a few minutes to give him the private moments he needed to regain his composure. When she returned to the room, she simply resumed her spot on her end of the couch. But then she reached over, touched his hand, and asked, "You OK?" in a soft voice, even though she knew there was no answer to such a foolish question.

He looked up into her eyes as he nodded and smiled briefly. His fingers tightened on hers just as she moved them away and she settled back down again against the deep pillows on her end of the couch and turned her eyes back towards the TV.

They were simply quiet together for a long time. There was such comfort in being with someone you could be completely comfortable with in silence. Being able to share stillness was remarkable and Mulder felt the relaxation and languor settle into his body. He laid his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes for a few minutes. It was a good evening indeed. After a bit, Mulder felt Scully stir next to him on the couch and he turned to her. She'd pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her bare feet and her eyes had closed. And as he leaned forward slightly to look at her, the soft sound of her even breathing told him that she was asleep, or very nearly so, curled up on the large pillows. It was time to go.

But God, he wanted so much to stay.

He smiled over at her sleeping form with his own great affection. The depth of the friendship Scully offered to him for the taking was extraordinary and yet, she often denied his attempts to return it. Rarely would she respond to his endeavors to reach out to her on the same level. More often she would gently, but very resolutely, turn away from him. In the beginning that had hurt, but over time, he'd come to understand that it wasn't a rejection of him personally, but rather, it was something she denied to herself for her own reasons. Reasons he just didn't understand yet, but hoped to someday. But tonight, as he looked over at Scully, he wished that she believed that she could turn to him as he turned to her. There were times when he wondered if she had any need of him at all and that thought always made him sad.

He should go, he reminded himself.

Mulder rose to his feet, shut the TV off, and turned back to look at Scully. He picked up their coffee mugs, took them to her kitchen, and returned to look at Scully. He really should go. He should probably wake her so that she could trot off to bed after he was gone. He stood over her and pondered the idea of lifting her gently from the couch and taking her off to her bed. But he feared taking her fully into his arms like that, knowing deep down that it would create a deeper hunger in him than he was emotionally capable of resisting. And making an ass of himself was not the way to end this evening.

OK, he really should just go right now, he thought yet again. But instead, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, intending to reach out and wake his partner. But instead, he ended up watching her sleep. After a moment, he slid off the coffee table to sit on the floor next to her. He knew she wasn't in the deep stage of sleep yet for as he reached over and smoothed his fingers down her hair to see her face better, she stirred slightly against the pillow. He withdrew his hand quickly as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Which, of course, he had been.

Mulder watched her peaceful sleep with deep envy. True rest. Scully had true rest even after all she'd seen, all that had happened to her in the last few years. A fairly clear and guilt-free conscience will do that for you, he thought with a small smile. Not that Scully didn't have her demons; she was just better at hiding from them that he was.

He took his time to study her face carefully because he could. He could look all he wanted without fear, without her knowing. He felt a bit contrite about that, as though he was infringing upon her privacy, but he did it anyway. Just then, Scully curled slightly on the pillow, the action moving her closer to him.

So close. And yet so far, his rational mind added. He scooted even closer to her and laid his hand on the couch next to hers. So close. He took careful note of how her face was turned to him. Mulder inched closer still, now near enough to feel her physical warmth, and to see the small splattering of freckles on her nose. Mulder stared at her slightly parted lips, soft and so damn inviting in repose

It was a perfect moment, if he kissed her softly enough, she would never know. He wanted to give her something of himself and if she slept soundly enough, she would never know. It was just one kiss. He drew back a moment to judge how asleep she was, whether he could brush his lips to hers without waking her. He closed his eyes a moment as he considered making his quiet longing into a reality.

No. He couldn't do it. For no matter what he told himself, it would be taking something from her that she hadn't yet offered to him. It was stealing her trust and he, who valued the honor of trust above all, couldn't do that to her. It just wasn't right and his affection for her wouldn't allow it. Mulder sighed deeply in resignation and opened his eyes.

To find Scully looking at him.

Apparently, she hadn't been so far under the edge of sleep that she hadn't heard him sigh, hadn't felt his presence nearby. She lifted her head slightly from the pillow as she looked so steadily back at him and he saw that her gaze was clear, that no essence of sleep shadowed her eyes. And in that moment, he also saw that she knew what he'd been thinking, understood what he'd been contemplating. He'd been caught, but it was OK. For a long moment they looked into each other's eyes, their own breath the only sound besides the crackle of the fire. It was Mulder who finally moved first, lifting his hand from the couch to again brush along her hair and her eyes followed his gesture, then closed briefly as his fingertips grazed her temple before she opened them to meet his gaze again. "Just one, Scully," he bargained softly with a grin.

A glint of humor came into her eyes as she nodded, giving her sanction to the moment as a barely suppressed smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. She reached out her hand to him, caressing it along his rough jaw line, and gently drew him to her so they could each have the kiss they'd wanted to have for so long.

Mulder touched Scully's lips softly in a sweet, honest, first kiss. One that carried no past baggage, no future promises beyond this singular moment in which they shared solace and succor, banishing the past few day's events. It was a moment that made his heart turn over and his toes curl.

As he felt her lips part and he moved deeper into their kiss, Mulder drew Scully's comfort from her, her friendship, her warmth. He could taste it; he could feel it in the touch of her fingers against his cheek and by her hand which she'd placed over his on the couch, holding on to his fingers. He gratefully took some of her peace just as he knew she gladly gave it to him.

Scully drew some of Mulder's desolation from his kiss, replacing it with her affection for him. But in return, she received his esteem for her, his trust, his commitment. She took pride in his giving of these things for she knew he'd given them to no other in his life. It was a more than even trade in her mind.

Mulder lifted his mouth from hers with a small sound of soul-deep contentment, drawing back so slowly that he could feel the exact moment her lips ceased to touch his. For just a moment, he pressed his forehead to hers, nuzzling the side of his face against hers as though he had to rest from the effort of breaking the kiss.

Scully's fingers trailed down the curve of his jaw as he continued to move away slowly, knowing that he needed to withdraw or he would break his promise. Scully watched him rise and move towards the door, never taking her eyes off him.

They both knew that they wouldn't speak of this moment tomorrow. It was too fragile to examine too closely just yet. But they would remember it and feel secure in its mere existence for they each knew the other's feelings and fears -- just as they each knew there would be other moments of tender or passionate affection to come.

At the door, Mulder looked away only long enough to retrieve and put on his jacket. When he looked back up, he saw that Scully had drawn the coverlet up around her and had snuggled over into the down pillows on the side of the couch where he'd sat most of the evening. Clearly, she was going to sleep there this night. He felt oddly humble at the realization that she wanted to remain near to where he'd been. He opened the door, but before stepping through, he stopped and turned back for a last look. "Thank you, Scully," he said quietly, his voice and eyes conveying a deeper import of his heart than his mere words could.

"Good night, Mulder. Sleep well," she said softly back to him knowing that he would. She smiled a bit, knowing too, that he would be back for more. Whether in a week or month, she didn't know, but he would be back for more. And perhaps, if she needed to, she could go to him.

Mulder nodded as he closed the door slowly. He stood in the hallway a moment, dropping his head back and breathing deeply before moving on. He felt renewed; he felt cleansed and peaceful because she'd affirmed again that he wasn't alone. After so many, many years of lonely isolation, he felt another small step closer to being whole again.

Tonight, had been about him. But someday Scully would need him too. It might be a week, a month, he didn't know. But she would turn to him confident that he had the emotional reservoir to offer her the sustenance she needed. Someday soon it would be about her and her need for his affection.

But in the meantime, they would both sleep well tonight.

The End Part I of III


End file.
